Traces of the Missing
Bagan stepped out of the throne room and immediately began searching for the entrance to the underground prison, which was connected directly to the royal palace. He wasn’t looking for the dungeon out of idle curiosity. He wanted to check whether any of the imprisoned criminals had familiar faces—or at least familiar names.
Bagan refused to believe that Reina and Natalie had been killed by those criminals. It might have been wishful thinking, but there was no concrete evidence. So he intended to examine the criminal records and infer where the two might have gone.
I need to find any clue at all.
The more desperate he felt, the faster his steps became. Fortunately, the entrance to the underground prison was easier to locate than expected. Duke Davance had made searching the dungeon the top priority, so his soldiers had thrown themselves into the task the moment they regained their senses.
“Search every inch—from the underground prison to the waterways! Don’t miss a single trace!”
A man who appeared to be their captain was directing the operation with disciplined precision. The reason they were working so frantically was simple: in this incident, they had accomplished nothing. Worse, they had attacked allies and civilians indiscriminately, causing chaos. Though they hadn’t been in their right minds at the time, the memories remained vivid. Many still hadn’t fully recovered from the shock, but most felt they had tarnished the honor of Davance’s proud army. That was why they poured every ounce of effort into restoring order.
Moving among them, Bagan made his way directly to the underground prison. There, he found the bodies of the dead dungeon guards.
“So they killed them.”
Looking at the brutally mutilated corpses, Bagan analyzed the criminals’ tendencies with little emotion. The more he saw, the smaller the hope that Reina and Natalie had survived became—but his faith in them didn’t waver.
With that resolve, he ventured deeper. Inside the iron-barred cells, he discovered several more bodies. All of them shared two common traits: they were criminals, and each had been pierced by something.
Bagan stepped inside one of the cells for a closer look.
“Hey! You can’t go in there!”
A soldier who had been cleaning up tried to stop him, but Bagan wasn’t the type to be deterred. A mere soldier’s words held no weight against someone who ignored even the king’s commands.
As he examined the corpses, Bagan noticed something strange about the magical traces and puncture wounds on one of the bodies.
The upper clothing is soaked. Something with tremendous pressure struck the chest—enough to rupture an untrained body. The finishing blows were short, sharp weapons that pierced the neck and shoulder.
Water Bullet followed by dual daggers. Classic combination.
(It really does feel like those two, doesn’t it?) Sally’s telepathic voice carried a hint of agreement.
As expected, Bagan’s intuition had been correct.
Reina used Water Bullet, and Natalie finished them off with her daggers.
(So we’ve confirmed they encountered the criminals and fought them.)
‘And that they’re still alive. There’s no way the two of them would vanish without a trace after fighting inside a cell. And they certainly didn’t break through this cramped space to escape.’
It had been only a faint guess before, but now there was evidence. The traces were too distinct to suggest the criminals had fought among themselves, and the girls’ bodies had not been found. He couldn’t say it with one hundred percent certainty, but the probability that they were alive had risen sharply.
That realization fueled Bagan’s determination. Having found a clue, the next place he headed was somewhere he could look up the criminals’ histories and names. Since they had been imprisoned, their crimes and identities should have been recorded and preserved.
The logical location for such records was the storage office at the entrance of the underground prison. Originally, it had been used by rotating groups of guards who processed new inmates, death row prisoners, and releases once a week. But after the guards were slaughtered, the space had been left empty.
Though small, it doubled as a resting area for the soldiers, so it contained everything one might need. In simple terms, it was like a tiny barracks. Inside were several wooden drawers and stacks of blank paper. The quills had dried out—perhaps because no new criminals had arrived for quite some time.
Bagan walked straight to the drawers and began examining the records.
What the hell is this handwriting?
It was some of the worst penmanship he had ever seen. Most of the entries looked like they had been scribbled in a hurry by someone who found writing tedious. Many were faded with age or so smeared they were nearly illegible. It felt like deciphering a code.
After painstakingly reading through them, he learned there had been exactly sixty-two criminals in the dungeon. Twenty-three were on death row, with execution dates varying by crime. Thirty-four had received life sentences—or rather, sentences of a hundred years or more, which amounted to the same thing. Seven had been scheduled for release.
Their crimes ranged from serious felonies to outright murder. The most absurd one made Bagan mutter aloud.
“This guy named Kawit was caught trying to assassinate the king. A spy from another country?”
He continued reading the records to himself when a question suddenly occurred to him.
Who the hell organized this many criminals and led them out?
Criminals were criminals for a reason. A prison was essentially a warehouse of broken minds. The idea that the moment the doors opened, they would kill the guards and cooperate to escape was something that only happened in stories. There must have been plenty of bloodthirsty murderers among them. How had they suppressed their urges long enough to work together?
The more he thought about it, the more it felt like a maze with no exit.
(It’s possible one of them was pretending to be a criminal while staying sane. Maybe someone who was arrested for an impulsive crime. Or perhaps someone with a dual personality—perfectly normal most of the time, but triggered into becoming a killing machine.)
At Sally’s suggestion, Bagan tilted his head and considered the possibility. After deep thought, he reached one conclusion.
‘Either way, they got out of this city in one piece. And there are plenty of places to run to.’
(True. If I had seen their faces myself, I might have been able to tell which ones were truly dangerous.)
‘Faces?’
(Yes. With only written records, it’s hard to gauge the severity of their sins. Even looking at the bodies would give a better idea.)
‘Bodies… bodies… That’s it!’
Bagan suddenly thought of a brilliant idea and asked Sally if it was possible.
(It’s not exactly my specialty, but yes, I should be able to extract information from them.)
With Sally’s confirmation, Bagan spoke clearly.
“Alright then. To the Room of Truth.”
The group of criminals led by Kawit endured the biting cold with a few meager campfires. They had been walking since dawn and finally reached a small village in the Tempo Kingdom.
“Welcome. This is a humble village, but I am its chief, Forte.”
When nearly fifty people suddenly entered the village, the chief had come out personally, saying he would only speak with their representative. He approached Kawit.
At that moment, the criminals were waiting as Kawit had promised to handle things, but they were essentially walking time bombs. Tension was inevitable.
“My name is Kawit. I am leading people who lost their homes in the war between the Sog Kingdom and the Seiros Kingdom. We barely made it here. You can think of us as refugees.”
“Oh dear. Such things have been rare lately, so it’s hard to believe, but… I’m sorry to hear that. You must be looking for a place to settle?”
Forte still looked suspicious, but he asked out of courtesy.
“Yes. I’ve heard there’s a place further ahead that accepts people no matter their circumstances. It seems suitable for refugees. For tonight, we would be grateful if you could simply provide a place to rest.”
“That much is no problem, but I wouldn’t recommend going there. Rumors say they also shelter criminals on the run. The quality of people isn’t great.”
Suspicion was one thing, but Forte still gave his honest opinion. Kawit’s eyebrows rose slightly in surprise, but he quickly covered it with a smile.
“Haha, if it were that kind of place, it would have collapsed long ago. We are heading there with the faintest thread of hope. After all, we lost our homes in the blink of an eye.”
Kawit smoothly brushed off the warning and naturally moved on to the main topic.
“So, could you possibly provide us with a place to spend the night? If not, we’ll have to camp outside again… Sigh. So many of us are exhausted.”
He put on a pitiful act. And indeed, after several days of camping, many were genuinely tired. They had thrown a party the previous night to lift their spirits, but mental fatigue had still accumulated.
Forte observed them carefully for a moment before speaking.
“I can’t just leave you like that. It’s a small village with few houses, so I’m not sure if we can find enough proper shelter. But if needed, we can offer the warehouse and stables.”
“Oh! Thank you so much! Anything is fine. As long as we can rest safely inside the village walls…”
Kawit grasped Forte’s hand tightly. The chief was an elderly man with graying hair, and his hand felt wrinkled. Though sudden, Kawit kept shaking it enthusiastically, and Forte responded with a smile.
After finishing his conversation with Forte, Kawit returned to where the others were resting.
“The talk is over. We’ll stay here tonight. As I said before, anyone who causes trouble will be killed immediately. Behave yourselves.”
His charismatic tone earned respectful glances from some, while others swallowed nervously. Having said that, no one dared cause an incident. After all, Kawit was by far the strongest among them.
Seeing everyone submit to him, the group entered the village together. As promised, Forte gave them the usable warehouse and the currently empty stables since there weren’t many houses.
“It won’t be enough, but I asked the villagers and brought some extra blankets. It looks like it’s been a while since you’ve had a warm place to sleep. I’d like to prepare proper food for all these strong men, but it was so sudden that…”
“That would be too much of a burden for us as well. This is more than enough. Thank you, Chief.”
Kawit accepted several thin but wide-woven cloths and distributed them to the group before bowing to Forte once more. Forte laughed, saying it was only natural to help one another in hard times, and left.
Once Forte was gone, Kawit’s expression changed. He addressed the group gathered in the warehouse.
“Yes, you must be curious by now. Where we’re headed.”
As if they had been waiting for exactly that question, everyone’s attention focused on him at once.
“It’s simple. We’re aiming for a new beginning. We’re going to build a massive organization and devour the Tempo Kingdom. To do that, we must first go to a city called Slan.”
“Slan? Isn’t that the poorest city in the Tempo Kingdom?”
One of the men who had heard of the place spoke up knowingly. But he only knew half the story.
“The poor ones are just the bottom feeders. The ones on top are sucking the life out of everyone below to fill their own pockets.”
“Won’t we end up the same if we go there?”
The same man asked again, worry written all over his face. Kawit had expected better from the most sane-looking one among them, but the question was disappointing.
“When did I ever say we’d become ordinary bottom feeders? Obviously, we’re aiming for the head. We’ll become the head of Slan and swallow the Tempo Kingdom one piece at a time.”
Everyone gasped in admiration at Kawit’s words. They didn’t know how, but if he said they’d be at the top, it sounded good. Deciding it was better not to ask too many questions, Kawit continued.
“They call it the Kingdom of Knights, but that’s nonsense. In truth, the Tempo Kingdom isn’t much different from the Sog Kingdom. Give them the slightest push and they’ll snap like twigs. Their king may be one of the famous Seven Heroes, but that’s ancient history now. That bastard’s gotten old. It’s about time he fell over.”
His persuasive tone made the listeners nod. Some still looked anxious, their eyes trembling, but once they had joined this faction, they had no choice but to accept a certain level of risk. They let it slide.
At that moment, a sack that had been quietly set aside began to wriggle.
“Mmmph! Mmmph!”
Kawit immediately walked over and untied the rope. The sack fell open, revealing two women bound tightly with ropes, struggling desperately.
“Mmmph!”
When one of the women glared at him in fury, Kawit didn’t hesitate. Slap! He struck her across the face.
“You should be grateful we didn’t kill you. You two are going to sell for a high price. You’ll become the seed money for our organization.”
Kawit’s eyes glowed with a disturbing red light—clear proof that something inside him had already broken.